Barb Dimich

I have always been an avid reader. I love books whether I've read them or not and joke with the local library that I can't check out books because I won't return them-I want to keep them. So where did this desire to write come? I don't really know other than it's deeply rooted and perhaps began with sharing journals with childhood friends. I pursued writing and reading in school and quickly signed up for English classes in high school providing opportunity to do both.

During my senior year, my father and I argued frequently about my attending college-I didn't want to go. I wanted to attend business school and I did, graduating from Alexandria Vo-Tech as a secretary where I turned down my first job offer with the FBI in Washington. Though very interested, it was too far away from family in Minnesota. I proceeded to take on many secretarial jobs throughout the next several years, even went to night college (shocking my father), believing a degree would advance me at Honeywell where I then worked, but three months of strep throat halted my continued ed just shy of a 2-year degree. Deflated, disappointed, unhappy, miserable, I had already learned that no matter where I worked as a secretary the pay stunk.

My 15 years experience working with Twin Cities law enforcement followed Honeywell with a job offer as the only secretary in a small suburban police department and came with a pay increase. I data entered report after report once passing State certification, entered runaways, stolen vehicles and property, typed police reports and correspondence engraining my memory chips with state statutes and the law, and always got behind on filing. Cases poured in, the workload increased, the salary stayed the same, and I found myself jaded with more red tape. Nevertheless that little, intriguing radio next to my typewriter on the desk captivated my attention. It monitored the 'main', as in the main dispatch channel, for the cops. Every day I listened to Hennepin County dispatchers airing calls for police response of every possible nature.

I got to know those dispatchers via landline, and eventually a sergeant asked me if I would be interested in part time work as a clerk working Channel 3. WOW, what's that? The County was looking for State certified individuals who could fill in during vacation, sick leave, and training on a 24/7 basis for full timers. The job involved working Channel 3, which dispatched info to squads on suspects. In another words, if a squad pulled you over, the cop called Channel 3 to run a DL/2000, all-around, or Nicky 2000. Nicky stands for NCIC, 2000 indicated Hennepin County, and all-around meant everything, everywhere that I could dig up on you. If you happen to have some property in your car that didn't come with a good explanation, I ran serial numbers to find out whether you were in possession of stolen property. They had my interest! I applied, got the job and quickly learned how much I loved working the radio and mid shift (3-11 PM). I also realized for the first time, I hated secretarial work, office politics and day shift!

I continued full time work and part time with the county and eventually landed a job with the City of Minneapolis as a verbatim police typist, which actually paid a lot more to sit and listen to a cop tell the details of his arrest. I no longer had to work two jobs to support myself and was good at the verbatim thing simply because I could type fast-120 wpm, which really came in handy on a hot city night filled with crime. But we rotated shifts every month and the worst was coming off dog watch into days. Most switchovers only allowed for one day off between and you'd get off at 6:30 in the morning and have to be back 24 hours later at 6:30 in the morning. I detested the rotation and rising in the middle of the night since home was 40 miles one way. When I found out 911 had permanent shifts, I applied and got the job with another huge raise. What I didn't bank on was all the overtime and moved back into the city to save driving time. After a couple of years and three cops dying, nightmares began, migraines set in, my dentist told me I needed to eliminate the stress in my life so I'd stop grinding my teeth at night, and my medical doctor said find a new job. Off the job, sirens which I could identify as police, fire or ambulance started freaking me out-someone was in trouble. Office politics, too much overtime, violent high priority calls, and a severe lack of employees to answer the humungous volume had finally burned me up. Fifteen years after taking my first job with the police, I searched my soul re-discovering my passion-writing!

Now years after quitting the MPD, I write full-blown murder mysteries that guarantee accuracy of the way it's really done inside the crime scene tape. And no, none of what I write relates to anything I may have encountered in my previous work. IT'S ALL FICTION, FOLKS. Incredible as it may seem to some, writing doesn't pay big bucks either, but I can absolutely say I'm happily doing what I love most!

Buzz on over to www.barbdimich.com and check out some of my work.